


the centre cannot hold

by abrightgrayworld



Category: Detective Pikachu - Fandom, POKÉMON Detective Pikachu (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Reconciliation, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18940756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrightgrayworld/pseuds/abrightgrayworld
Summary: Ma’s grave is by the edge of a forest in Tim’s old city. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and warm with just the hint of a cool breeze. Wisps of clouds float by, and a few Togetic soar in the air, chasing several Pidgeys in a playful game. Pikachu dashes in front of them, rolling around in the grass with unfettered joy. It’s just the kind of day Ma would have loved, and Tim can feel that fact weighing on both him and his father. Ma’s memory tinges days like these gold with sadness, but feeling her presence gives them their own kind of enjoyment, all the same.Tim leads the way to the grave, surprised when Harry stays by his side easily. He’d thought Harry hadn’t been back to see Ma since she died, but clearly the path is well known to him. Another thing he didn’t know, he thinks, and wonders if he’ll ever stop missing what could have been long enough to focus on the present.--Tim and his father visit his mother on the anniversary of her death, and a reconciliation begins.





	the centre cannot hold

**Author's Note:**

> So! Despite the pretty rampant ableism and some other yikes-ish tropes in Detective Pikachu, I really liked it and got very emotional about the characters, ahhh!!! Here's a cathartic thing that ended up having a lot more crying than I thought it would! But hooray for emotional family stuff! I really need to stop writing at 1am when I have work in the next few hours, sigh. I haven't edited this either so hopefully there aren't egregious errors. 
> 
> I've been listening to some very emotional soundtracks from the Detective Pikachu soundtrack, especially this one: https://wwthw.youtube.com/watch?v=yZrc6dIRK_g. This served as the musical score for this story, so for the full experience, maybe put this on repeat as you read!
> 
> Title from The Second Coming by Yeats. I honestly don't quite know how it relates to the piece except it feels right. 
> 
> I would love kudos and comments so much! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

It’s been a few weeks since Tim moved in with Harry—with _Dad,_ it’s Dad, a title he’s trying to make himself say naturally and without thinking, but that’s not happening quite yet—that he looks at the calendar and stops breathing as he sees the date. His eyes prickle and he swallows around a lump in his throat.

Ma’s death anniversary is in two days.

Pikachu is sitting on the couch, and he makes a small noise that breaks Tim out of his trance. He clears his throat and scrubs at his eyes roughly with one hand.

Harry (Tim is giving up on “Dad” for the moment) comes into the room and places a pot of pasta on the dining table. He sets another plate of food on the table for Pikachu, who jumps up onto the booster seat and digs in with a soft “Pika.” Harry gives Tim a smile that’s slightly awkward, and Tim tries to return it. It’s been weeks since they’ve been sharing the same space, and they still haven’t found a way around their jagged edges, the hurt they both carry. Most days, they manage small talk, or talk about Tim’s preparation to pursue detective work, but nothing beyond that. Nothing to dive into the complicated mess of the past that wraps around them, casting a shadow on every interaction that they have.

Tim takes a seat and serves himself a generous portion of pasta. It’s good—Harry’s a fantastic cook. He would have to be, to survive on his own in Ryme City, though Tim remembers he had done his fair share of cooking back when they still lived together and Ma would be at the lab.

His eyes prickle again at the thought of her, and he glances up at his father, who’s alternating between watching him and glancing at his plate. Three weeks, and Tim doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to that weird awe in Harry’s eyes when he looks at Tim.

Harry’s eyes soften into concern, and Tim realizes he’s not hiding his emotions as well as he thought. Years of solitude will do that to someone, he supposes. Or maybe it’s just because this is his father.

“I was wondering,” Tim blurts, sudden and jerky. “It’s—in two days…it’s the anniversary.”

His father flinches, hand clenching around his fork. His shoulders go up to his ears. Tim pauses, unsure, but he presses on. “Nana and I would go visit her every year and I’ve kept up that tradition since she started travelling.” He hesitates, then takes the plunge. “Maybe you do something different on that day but…do you want to come with me?”

Harry’s shoulders relax slightly, and he glances up at Tim, his eyes soft and wet. “I would like that very much,” he says, voice cracking. He brushes away a tear trailing down his nose and gives him a shaky smile before going back to his meal. Pikachu coos softly and nudges his father’s hand with his paw, and Harry runs a hand across his furry head.

Tim’s gut twists. Protective instincts towards his father that he didn’t even know he had rise, and he looks away, breath catching in his throat. He’s used to dealing with his own grief, the weight of tears sitting in his chest and eyes, for hours or days on end, so heavy that sometimes, it renders him slow to move. But he has no idea how to get close to his father’s grief. Hell, he doesn’t even know what Harry usually does every year on the anniversary.

Not for the first time, he thinks, _I should have gotten on that train._

They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

***

Ma’s grave is by the edge of a forest in Tim’s old city. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and warm with just the hint of a cool breeze. Wisps of clouds float by, and a few Togetic soar in the air, chasing several Pidgeys in a playful game. Pikachu dashes in front of them, rolling around in the grass with unfettered joy. It’s just the kind of day Ma would have loved, and Tim can feel that fact weighing on both him and his father. Ma’s memory tinges days like these gold with sadness, but feeling her presence gives them their own kind of enjoyment, all the same.

Tim leads the way to the grave, surprised when Harry stays by his side. He’d thought Harry hadn’t been back to see Ma since she died, but clearly the path is well known to him. Another thing he didn’t know, he thinks, and wonders if he’ll ever stop missing what could have been long enough to focus on the present.

They finally reach two gravestones, both big and square. _Chantelle Goodman née Evans, brilliant scientist, loving daughter, wife, mother, and partner,_ reads the one on the left. The one on the right reads, _Newton: Loyal Sawsbuck Until the Very End._ Pikachu curls up on Ma’s Pokémon partner’s gravestone, and Tim’s heart aches at the sight. Some bonds last forever, even into death, and his Ma’s Sawsbuck hadn’t lasted very long after she had died. Tim wonders if Harry’s Pikachu has the same kind of bond with Harry. He probably does, since he had offered his life for Harry’s. It’s an uncomfortable thought, and Tim pushes it away.

Tim lets out a shaky breath and takes a seat on the soft grass in front of the stones. Harry settles down beside him after a moment. “Nana and I usually talk to her,” he tells Harry, not looking at him. He bows his head as he thinks of what to say. This part always feels private, even with Nana, but with Harry here, it feels fragile, tender, like something in the air could break with one wrong word.

“Um, hey, Ma,” Tim begins softly. “It’s been one hell of a year. Or…one hell of a month. The other eleven months were mostly the same, you know, with my old insurance job. I went Pokémon catching with Jack a few weeks ago, but that didn’t go so well. It figures since Jack was the one always getting us into trouble when we were kids, so I guess I should have expected it.”

Tim pauses, then huffs out a laugh. “So, this month…a lot has happened. There was a bit of chaos in Ryme City that I helped put a stop to, and I met a really awesome woman that I’ll tell you about another time if anything ever happens, but...the most important thing is that I reconnected with Dad.”

Harry turns to look at Tim, eyes wide, and Tim fights the urge to blush. He steadfastly ignores his father’s tremulous gaze and barrels on, his words spilling faster. “I know, that must surprise you. Before, all I would ever do was cuss him out to you. The thing is, I was angry. I was so, so, angry, Ma. I carried it around with me for a decade. It hurt me every time to think that I’d been abandoned, and I thought, hey, if he’s gone, he probably doesn’t really want me, anyway. I didn’t want to tie someone down.” Tim lets out a strangled laugh. His father is so, so quiet and Tim doesn’t want to look at him, not when his words are just as much for Harry as much as Ma.

“And then I thought he was dead, and I went to clear out his things and I saw his place for the first time. My old room, perfectly reconstructed. Letters, birthday cards, apologies. And if I thought it had hurt to be abandoned, it didn’t compare to the pain I felt at seeing him trying to reach out and not doing it. I was a kid. I was an asshole for not seeing the pain my dad was in. But his pain wasn’t an excuse for him to leave when I needed him most.” The world blurs as tears drip down Tim’s face, and the lump in his throat barely lets him breathe.

Harry is still quiet. Tim still won’t look at him.

“Here’s the thing, though, Ma,” Tim rasps. “I don’t think I’ve let go of that anger, and maybe I won’t for a long while yet. But I’m sorry for not seeing that he had lost the love of his life just like I had lost my mom. He hurt me, but he was hurting, too. And I forgive him. I…I love him. I want to give him the chance to do better. I thought you might like to know that. Anyway, I love you, and I miss you so much, Ma.” He reaches out and brushes the stone. From his seat on the other stone, Pikachu nudges his hand with his cheek and Tim brushes a hand across his fur. He turns to look at his father.

Harry’s face is buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Tears slip out from under the cage of his hands and drip onto the ground. He shifts and takes a ragged breath, letting out a gasping, utterly wrecked sound.

“Dad,” Tim croaks, the word finally coming unbidden, and his father’s stricken eyes lift to meet his.

And that’s it.

His defenses come crashing down in the face of his father’s naked grief. Tim lurches forward into his father’s arms and starts to bawl into his shoulder.  

They hold onto each other a long, long time, letting out years’ worth of sorrow, the sunlight warm around them. At some point, Pikachu burrows his way into their embrace, startling both of them into a strangled laugh. Tim pulls back slightly, but Dad doesn’t let him go.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says, cupping Tim’s face with one hand. “I messed up so badly, and I don’t know why you’re forgiving me, but I won’t waste this second chance. I swear, I’ll do right by you. I’ll do anything it takes to make it right. I love you, okay? So, so much. And I’m so damn proud of you.” Dad pulls Tim back into a tight embrace, so tight Tim feels like his bones will pop. He clutches onto Dad just as tightly, feeling like he’s ten all over again.

They draw apart again when Pikachu makes a loud noise of complaint at the squeeze, and this time, Tim sits back completely. “Your turn to speak,” he says, wiping his face with his shirt. Pikachu hops into Tim’s lap.

Dad turns to the graves. “Hi, Chantelle,” he says softly. “You saw what just happened, so I’ll give you the short version. I’m with my son again, and the only thing in the world that would be more perfect would be if you were here.” Dad glances at Tim and smiles. “Our son is incredible, Elle. He’s brave, and kind, and so brilliant. I see you in him all the time.”

Tim’s heart fills. He hadn’t known that.

“I miss you every day,” Dad continues, and there are more tears in his eyes. His hand traces Ma’s name. “Ten years haven’t changed that, and more time never will. I love you so, so much. I’m sorry for disappointing you for all these years, but I’ll make things right. And Tim and I will see you next year."

Tim nods. “Bye, Ma.” He stands, helping Dad to his feet. Pikachu hops onto Dad’s shoulder.  

Something moves at the corner of Tim’s eye and he turns. He freezes.

At the edge of the graveyard where the forest starts, a few feet away from Ma’s grave, a Sawsbuck is watching them placidly. It’s in its spring form, pretty pink flowers covering its antlers.

Dad stills behind him. His hand lands on Tim’s shoulder, tight.

Tim remembers what Pikachu had told him all those weeks ago: Pokémon can feel intent and emotion.

The Sawsbuck steps closer to them.

Then, it sings.

It’s like the essence of spring, of perfect, sunny days, of hope, and love, and forgiveness, and light, all woven into one song. It’s a lullaby, an elegy, and a ballad by turns. It soothes and heals and makes space for new things to grow in their hearts.

It sounds just like Ma’s Sawsbuck when he sang Tim to sleep as a child.

Finally, the Sawsbuck stops. It ducks its head low to the ground, and slips back into the forest, vanishing in the space of one breath and the next.

“ _Pika_ ,” Pikachu breathes.

“Yeah, buddy,” Dad whispers, eyes glassy. “It was beautiful.”

Tim nods, too choked up to speak. Somewhere, Ma’s looking down at them. She’s always here.

“Let’s go home,” Tim says. Dad nods, wraps an arm around his shoulder, and they set off into the sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I wanted to make this a lot more about Tim's mom than what ended up happening. Maybe I'll write something about her and her relationship with Harry, if there's interest!
> 
> Again, thanks for reading, and kudos and comments would be super appreciated! <3


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